


you're the one that i've kept closest

by ivermectin



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e13 The Hurt Locket, F/M, Fluff and Smut, POV Nate Archibald, Past Recreational Drug Use - Mentioned (blink & you'll miss it), Semi-Public Sex, You know the scene, i just tried to write about sex and make it literary, it's not really smut i don't think, the serenate aesthetic.. that's what we're trying here, there's a Vibe i'm going for, they're making out in coat check
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivermectin/pseuds/ivermectin
Summary: It’s high tide; rising. Serena kisses his neck, hot and open mouthed, and he can feel her smile, can feel her hands clasping his thigh.Nate, she says. It feels like the first time anyone has ever said his name before.
Relationships: Nate Archibald/Serena van der Woodsen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	you're the one that i've kept closest

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Crystalised' by The XX, which, incidentally, is the song that is playing during the scene as well, and at least 60% of why I even wrote this fic.

Serena laughing in Nate’s mouth; Nate whispering, _shush, don’t let them find us,_ the way her fingers feel cool cool cool on his fever-warm skin, he’s loved her so long and she’s here now, and he feels at peace in a way he didn't even know was a possibility.

Arms bracketing each other, they’d fallen to the couch like they couldn’t stay standing, bodies intertwined and firm, trail of clothes like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs, Serena’s single black stiletto like a Cinderella recreation, something theatrical and symbolic in all of it, like how reptiles shed skin. Her coat had rustled as it fell, like the first leaves of autumn. It was a stronger feeling than anything he'd felt before; a crescendo blossoming inside him and around him, pulling him forward.

Serena’s touch grounds him and makes him float, she goes to his head like that one time Chuck had insisted Nate try cocaine (and never again, Nate had decided) but at the same time he feels at ease, comfortable, feels truly himself in the way he can really only feel around Serena, Serena who _knows_ him, who’s known him for so long and so well and whose body is pressed up against his body in a way that feels natural enough that it’s like they came from the same star, he and Serena.

Her hand is on the back of his neck, fingers feeling his pulse as they kiss, and his hands are on the triangle of skin exposed at her lower back, the cut of her dress a perfect window for holding her, their foreheads touching as they kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss, and Nate’s dizzy with it.

Senior year’d been him and Serena fake dating in the Hamptons, the only good part of that summer before it’d gone all sour and twisted, her laughing as he did at the white party. Her asking, _come on Nate, when have you ever been happy_.

Now, he thinks. Her hand tightens in his, she exhales in his mouth, her hips shift to meet his and his hand finds her lower back, the back of her head, trailing her body, because she’s _Serena_ , and he’s _Nate_ , and this was always going to happen. She’s the treble clef to his bass clef, his other half, the one person who was always going to understand, the knife to his fork.

It’s high tide; rising. Serena kisses his neck, hot and open mouthed, and he can feel her smile, can feel her hands clasping his thigh. _Nate,_ she says. It feels like the first time anyone has ever said his name before. Serena; his Serena, Serena who’s known him since they were kids and wiping their hands on their clean play clothes and getting told off from their mothers over it. Serena’s hair had never been tidy, not even then, and Nate remembers feeling like he’d got the sun in his eyes around her; when she had an idea he had no choice but to follow.

No choice, no choice. He belongs wholly to Serena.

“We should probably go,” Serena says, softly, after another woman’s taken her coat and left the room, not having seen them. They’re there, in plain sight, lying on the sofa, something almost innocent about their shamelessness, about how they can just make love in coat check, unabashed, uncaring, so young and full of love and life and fun, fun, fun, fun in the way Serena is, fun in the way Nate can only be when he’s with Serena.

Nate hums his dissent, shakes his head. Says, softer, his voice rasping a little from arousal and just from the feeling of complete light-headedness, “Let’s finish what we started.”

She smiles, unbuttons his shirt with ease like playing a musical instrument she’s well versed in; her fingers trailing his skin, touching him with tender curiosity, because they’re not cheating and they’re not in somebody else’s living room. They’re in coat check, and they’re both trying not to laugh, and she’s so warm, and her skin feels like ice where she touches him, like he’s burning up, and they’re both just two bodies on one couch, her soft voice making him more aware of the gruffness in his voice than he’s been since his voice broke, maybe.

Her hand grasps his ass, but her other hand is still tender, gentle, in his hair, cupping the back of his head, and his hand is doing the same to her, shifting the cushion away, working as a pillow for her head. It feels like Nate is dreaming; never has he felt so much like he is in the right place, exactly where he needs to be, with exactly who he wants to be with.

Once they’re sated, they lie there, clothes half undone. Nate’s lying on the couch now, and Serena’s on top of him, using him as a pillow, her face pressed to the part of his chest that’s bare, a tiny window of skin where she unbuttoned his shirt, pressed to it like she was listening to his heartbeat.

“I think we’re pushing our luck at this point,” Serena mumbles, sounding drowsy but happy, which Nate relates to.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else inside him, like he’s left his body and is just coming back to himself. They get up as one, and Serena says, quiet, “Could you grab my jacket and dress, please?”

“Mmhm,” Nate says, and he moves to do it. He feels strange, moving away from Serena to find her clothes, because this time he’s secure in the knowledge that it isn’t going to be like earlier, like the last times. He’s spent so long pining for Serena van der Woodsen that it’s so strange, knowing that space has been filled, that he doesn’t have to yearn anymore.

So, he’s walking to find her clothes, and he can’t find them, but it’s fine. They bullshit it like they always do; grab some random lady’s coat and make a run for it. It’s not the end, Nate reflects. It’s the beginning. They both leave coat check laughing, and neither of them can keep a straight face.

“Great service,” Nate tries to say, while Serena giggles.

It’s the beginning, Nate thinks. Serena’s here, by his side, and some part of him feels quiet, feels like he’s finally at home, like he’s not drifting anymore.

She says something about this being the best first date ever. And Nate thinks, _yes._ He would do it all over again, if he could. And the best part is that he can. He isn’t ever going to stop loving her the way he does; wholly and unconditionally. Serena, Serena, Serena. She’s a matchstick and he’s the firewood. She looks at him and it’s all he can do to not start burning.

**Author's Note:**

> feeling nostalgic? [here, watch the scene & tell me how i did.](https://youtu.be/9kAzvpGpU-g?t=37)  
>  ~~chace and blake have such pretty hands??? i wish i could PAINT~~


End file.
